


Three is the perfect number

by Mitsuky



Series: Bunnies-box [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Elder Scrolls cannon compliant holidays, Mentions of the Marvel Universe, Multi, Riften (Elder Scrolls), TES creatures, khajiit caravans - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26711008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitsuky/pseuds/Mitsuky
Summary: Dante: I've been assigned to Stonehenge because of some strange sightings reported...Amaryllis: *giggles* The CIA is after ghost stories now? You must really have a lot of free time, guys.*Shit happens at Stonehenge*Lyon: This is Skyrim, that is a freaking Argonian, ther-there are literal GODS IN THIS WORLD! And why am I yellow?!I hate YELLOW!
Relationships: Amy/Lyon/Dante
Series: Bunnies-box [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863139





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few months ago... I just rediscovered where I left it.  
> Let's see where I can take it. 🤔

> Amaryllis: My job? I’m a secret agent… No, it isn’t as exciting as it sounds.

* * *

After a long day at work, Amy discarded all of her stuff back at home, put some comfortable clothes, and walked down the street to relax at her favourite café. Little specks of white fell from the sky, announcing a snowstorm. Amy rubbed her red nose, but the itch wouldn’t go away, and right before walking into the establishment she sneezed very loudly.

The red extended from her nose to the rest of her face as she finally walked into the coffee shop, where many pairs of eyes greeted her. How embarrassing!

Letting her long honey-blond hair fall like a curtain to cover her from the amused glances of the patrons, she walked to the cashier to make her order and then sat on her table at the corner of the room. She waited for a couple of minutes before the waitress brought along her overly-milky coffee and she thanked the young girl with a nod, sipping and humming contentedly at the taste of the blissfully warm beverage running down her throat and melting away the last remnants of the feeling of coldness from the exterior.

Bringing a book out of her bag, Amy sat on the comfy armchair for the next hour. Her routine was always like this: wake up, hurry up to work, eat the less disgusting food possible at the cafeteria, return home, and head for an hour of peace and yummy coffee at her favourite place before returning home for the rest of the day. Easy, simple, and most importantly, stress-free. Those last bits of her day, anyway...

Why ‘stress-free’ is so important to her, you ask?

Well, that is because, most days, Amy has to deal with lots of stressing shit. You see, she works for the Secret Intelligence Service, also known as the SIS.

‘ _Oh, spies and adventures!_ ’ you’d be thinking all excited and Amy would scowl at you. For her, that couldn't be further from the truth... and her dream job. ‘ _Why is she still working there, then?_ ’ you wonder. In one word, because of her _brain._

She has a good memory, something like remembering dates and names was always easy for her, so she chose to study history, because, why not? It’s not like she had any other thing she’d prefered to do with her life; besides, she had an easy way to cheat all those tedious tests an get an easy degree. Why _wouldn’t_ she take advantage of it?

There she was one day, at the Bodleian, minding her own business and reading some extra material for her own amusement since she already finished preparing for the next and final day at Oxford as a student when, out of nowhere, a guy sat in front of her. It wasn’t odd that someone sat at the same table, much less that they dressed in a suit, but what bothered her was the staring.

The man was an old guy with greying hair, covered by a beret over his noticeably growing balding head, dressed in an expensive-looking three-piece suit, holding a stylish cane, and he had a seriously hard stare that felt like a drill going through her skull when she cared to notice; he didn’t have a book as he calmly clasped his hands over the table while keeping his gaze focused solely on her.

After a long time — probably only five minutes — of Amy squirming and trying to ignore the man, he talked to her. He asked how she was getting almost perfect marks on all of her subjects. She answered with the truth, after her surprise about his knowledge passed; she ‘studied’, she simply said. He stared a while longer and made her squirm some more before directly asking ‘ _Did you cheat?_ ’ and she shrugged, while looking behind him and out of the tall windows. ‘ _Is it cheating if I actually know about everything I wrote on the exams?_ ’ she said softly.

The old man hummed, and after another minute, started shooting random questions at her. Dates of random wars, participants, their births and deaths, known family, small and picky details about certain things only the most dedicated people know about their favourite historical characters… then, from changes in the global geography, to some simple astronomical facts she barely remembered from high school, to mathematical theorems that she was almost sure she forgot as she never touched anything math-related after school, to dates of certain news that came out on the newspapers, and finally sports stuff she didn’t even realize she remembered reading about.

Those were the oddest thirty minutes of her life, up until that moment.

The man, Gary he said before leaving, left her with a card with only an address written on it and curiosity filling her chest. He told her that if she wanted to do something meaningful with her unique skill, he’d be waiting, and walked away, quickly melting amongst the crowd leaving for lunch.

Always too curious for her own good, Amy appeared on the front door of a nondescript building a couple of months later. Thankfully, her studies were over and London was really close to Oxford, otherwise, she might have burst from the anxiety she felt by the time she had a chance to visit.

The start of her career with the SIS happened suddenly, or at least it felt like that. One day she was worrying about what she would do after leaving Oxford, and the next she was signing the lease for a house in London and starting to learn what it's actually like to be a ‘spy.’ And not the laughing stuff made up in the movies that everyone jokes about on her work-place. Or, well, not really. She doesn’t have a bone in her for all the secrecy and constant vigilance stuff. She is too laid-back, her instructors complained about it many times with disillusioned shaking heads. So, she ended up — or more like down — working on the archives and as a helper for those in need of information since she has such a good memory.

And, of course, the oddities started coming more often.

She still received some training in case she ever found herself in trouble, a basic self-defence and weapons training that everyone who isn’t an Agent (the _actual_ spies) has to go through as per the SIS’s policies on a regular basis. They even have an hour of actual work-out programmed twice a week! But none of that was actually the troubling part of her life, even though she hates exercising. No, the worst part was that, sometimes, she finds herself thrown in the middle of dangerous situations and has to put all of her training into practise when she’s supposed to only be an archivist! The first time it happened was only a few months after starting on her job properly, and it only escalated from there. Weird situations seemed to just spawn all around her every other month since she joined!

After the third time — when a rough agent tried to steal from the archives before betraying everyone and had the misfortune of crossing paths with Amy — she grew a strong dislike of guns, much to her trainers and Gary’s amusement. But, anyway, it’s not like she has too many opportunities to put on a bikini to show off her toned body, so she doesn’t really care about the scar from the bullet wound on her hip. What bothered her was the weeks she spent at the hospital, on a bed, and eating that terrible food.

Hospital food sucks!

There are few things Amy feels strongly about: red is her favourite colour so, even if it is make up or an accessory, she _needs_ to have something of that colour with her; cats are the absolute cutest animals ever, there is no telling her otherwise; videogames, books and movies are a must to keep Amy entertained, a bored Amy is a whiny Amy, and nobody wants _that_ ; cooking is one of her hobbies and she only puts up with the cafeteria food because she isn’t allowed to bring her own tupper at work; all kinds of insects are disgusting, period; she’s tired sick of studying history since getting in the SIS and can only stand fantasy and fiction stories after the second year working for them and shoving unlimited amount of history in her brain — history that isn’t always what the public knows as true, but at least that part is interesting; guns are the work of the devil and leave nasty scars; and finally, she finds anyone under the age of seventeen at minimum obnoxious, so keep them away from her.

Those weeks at the hospital were hell on earth for Amy, but she at least walked off the encounter still breathing and no one paid too much attention to her complaining one way or another. Her only consolation was that she left the wannabe thief and traitor on a worse state than she found herself at for those miserable days. She may dislike training, but she knows how to implement the few moves she knows to deadly results.

* * *

**Alias**

| 

Amaryllis Tash | Amy | Red Raven  
  
---|---  
  
**Born**

| 

September 18, 1981 – UK, Liverpool  
  
**Complexion**

| 

1.65m tall, white pale skin, honey-blond hair, hazel-green eyes.  
  
**Personal Information**

| 

1981; Born of Eugene Tash and Alice Tash née Ashton. **_R_ _ead appended page for extended family._**

Oxford graduate, history degree. At present works at the SIS, archives section. **_R_ _ead appended page for detailed records._**

Likes: Red, cats, videogames, books, movies, cooking.

Dislikes: Insects, crawlies, history _(eidetic memory skill to be verified)_ , guns, children.

**Trained and dangerous. Headcount: 5. Avoid contact if possible, the position of an archivist is believed to be a ruse.**  
  
* * *

> Amaryllis: My favourite colour is red, but for a moment there I thought of blond with stormy grey eyes.

* * *

One of the worst — and at the same time best — experience of Amy’s life occurred during her ‘summer holidays’, five years after joining the SIS. Her holiday wasn’t much of one as it got interrupted before it could even begin, and the warmth she expected to enjoy never arrived as she had to leave London to go on a merry goose chase after some rough agents, because of the whims of some spoiled French guy that was indispensable for the operation as he had all the info needed to solve the case, and some Yankee blonde that needed a tour guide as it was his first time at England and took her to meet with said French guy. But in the end, she didn’t mind it so much as she got to meet the two most important people of her life thanks to that last-minute assignment her superiors gave her.

It all started on her final day at work, before her so awaited holiday. She was at her desk, on the depths of the SIS’s building, introducing the data from some report that arrived a few days earlier but couldn’t get to properly work with since, as usual, she was up to her neck with incoming reports to file into the servers. _Good thing that she’d get to ditch it to Julia once her time is over_ , she thought before everything came crashing down on her.

The click, click, click of the keyboard echoed at a furious speed in the office as she typed the information on the computer for the next half an hour, until she was finally done and rested against her chair with a satisfied groan. She turned the top half of her body from one side to the other, enjoying the sound of pops made by her back.

Knock, knock~!

The sound from the door startled her from where she was arranging her things away inside her bag and fixing the pages back into the folder to leave at the archives. Folder in hand, bag to her side, and coat on, Amy opened the door and walked out. She wasn’t expecting to find Gary there though.

She opened her mouth, but quickly realized he wasn’t alone and fixed her greeting accordingly as the man was an unknown. “Agent Fox-7,” Amy said with a smile and nodded at Gary, “What can I do for you?”

After five years, Gary looked even older than that first day they met at the Bodleian. That devilish cane he always kept by his side gave the person meeting the man the deceiving sense of fragility from him, when they couldn’t be more off the mark. Gary still has a year before retiring and he keeps in perfect shape because of that.

Gary returned the smile and moved to the side, letting Amy see the man behind him clearly. At one-seventy something tall, the blond man staring back at her with intrigue was very handsome; he had the most unbelievable grey eyes she’d ever seen, almost white really, and was dressed impeccably in a black suit without even a hint of a wrinkle in them.

“Red Raven,” Gary started, letting her know that this was something important and work-related, as a result, she immediately knew her holidays were about to be postponed or cancelled altogether. “This is Agent 1265-Alighieri, fresh from New York,” Gary introduced the foreigner and they nodded at each other. “He’s here on an important mission and needs a guide through England. Since your time is about to become a lot more free than usual, the Boss wants you to do it.”

Amy grabbed a folder from Gary0s hand, who left with a wink that caused her to blush slightly, but since she’s so pale it was more noticeable than a black spot of ink on white linen. The silly man was still trying to get her set up with someone? Amy glared at his retreating back until the old Agent stepped into the elevator and disappeared entirely.

With a sigh, she turned around and opened the door to her office once more, inviting the silent man on the back to get in and take a seat. He remained silent while she speedily read through the folder and got appraised on the details of the new assignment and her temporal partner, getting more and more irritated about it as she read more details about it. Basically, she was meant to be his babysitter. Outrageous!

Agent Alighieri, an ex-military man and newly appointed intelligence agent of the CIA, will be taking over the search for the rough agents from the US/UK who are working together and selling weapons as a newly minted mercenary group. An odd task for someone who’s been at the CIA for barely two years, and more so, at intelligence only. He either angered someone to be sent after mercenaries they barely know anything about and have little to nothing to work with, or he’s damn good at his job. She was hoping for the later...

 _Or, he has a bigger ego than a head over his shoulders,_ Amy though morosely and curious about how that would play out in the end.

Finished with the reading, Amy raised her head and gave Agent Alighieri a smile slash grimace. “Let’s do this then, shall we?” _Who wants holidays or to lazy about and play videogames anyway?_ Amy thought bitterly.

“I feel like I should apologize first,” the agent commented as they walked out of Amy’s office, “I’m taking you from your holidays after all. Let me invite you to dinner, Raven.”

Amy turned wide and surprised eyes to the blond. “Did Agent Fox put you up to this?” She asked with a resigned sigh.

Alighieri blinked in confusion at her as they rode down on the elevator, to the archives first, and then to the main lobby. “Excuse me?”

 _Oh_ , Amy exclaimed inside of her head, humming softly on the outside, “Okay then.”

Agent Alighieri cocked his head. ' _Okay then?'_ that was the less enthusiastic response he ever got when inviting someone to dinner. Self-consciously, Alighieri looked to the side and took a discreet glace of his reflection on the mirror. No, he looked as fine as ever, so what gives? He looked down at Red Raven from the corner of his eyes appraisingly. _Is she actually not interested, or just acting?_ He wondered all the way to the restaurant.

* * *

**Alias**

| 

Dante Di Napoli | Dan | 1265-Alighieri  
  
---|---  
  
**Born**

| 

May 25, 1980 – USA, New York  
  
**Complexion**

| 

1.72m tall, white and slightly tanned skin, blond hair, grey eyes.  
  
**Personal Information**

| 

1980; Born of Lorenzo Di Napoli and Ashley Di Napoli née Landon. **_R_ _ead appended page for extended family._**

Harvard graduate, political science degree. Military career, Sargent rank. Member of the CIA, head of the intelligence division. **_R_ _ **e** ad appended page for detailed records._**

Likes: Green, exercise, exteriors, forests, trekking, swimming, guns _(military training with all types)_.

Dislikes: Snow, babies, fat meat, eggplant _(allergic)_.

**Trained and dangerous. Headcount: 2 in the last week, final number unknown. Don’t engage.**  
  
* * *

> Amaryllis: Secrets are our specialty.
> 
> MrBlue: Most of the time anyway...
> 
> Amaryllis: Shut up, Blue!

* * *

That first day, Raven and Alighieri sat on a restaurant for hours and discussed the situation they found themselves at. Amy was pleasantly surprised with the American — he was pretty good at gathering information, writing everything with neat calligraphy on a small notebook he carries everywhere, and even already having a contact waiting for him in Liverpool with more data. His contact was the principal reason why Boss C decided to put Amy on the job of ‘showing the sights’ to Agent Alighieri. Amy was born and lived in Liverpool for eighteen years, so she knows the place like the back of her hand.

At the same time, Alighieri was surprised by Raven’s knowledge and fast working though process. He got used to having to do things by himself since he started working at the central, so he was understandably wary of the woman the SIS wanted to work alongside him in this case and practically babysit him during his stay on English soil. He was hoping to get to Liverpool, get the data about the targets from Mr Blue, and take his leave from the country and the tail the SIS put on him in a fast-paced order; but it soon came clear that she’d be more of an asset to him and the mission than he thought possible.

In the following days, after their first meeting, the two worked together and shared information as needed to get a clear idea of what was what, and soon after they travelled to Liverpool. Since everything is electronic nowadays, Alighieri promptly accepted Red Raven’s invitation to stay at her homeplace, to avoid leaving unnecessary leads at the hotel. Or so he told himself, even though he had a fake ID all worked out in case he needed to make a reserve somewhere.

But, once they arrive at the city and walked to the meeting place, it came quite clear that getting a hold of Mr Blue would be harder than expected since the man left only small clues with pub owners here and there that Alighieri — and Amy in tow, as she knew all the nook and crannies around the place — had to follow.

It was just by the fourth day that they met the man. Amy was more than ready to leave by then, her mother had her ready to commit murder if the woman mentioned marriage and kids once more, and her father’s glare was so embarrassing that she was tired of apologising to the agent for her father’s overprotective attitude. Yes, it was the first time she brought anyone home, but it was work-related not personal! She’ll have to avoid returning home for five more years after this, ugh.

Amy was so desperate for an excuse to leave, that she didn’t need much convincing to rush off the country by the time they finally met Mr Blue, the sneaky bastard. Mr Blue, of the slightly French accent and crazy height, looked at Amy with surprise for a short second before smiling winningly and standing up in a fluid sudden motion, once they finally caught up to the man and arrived to an agreement on their future actions.

“Good,” he said clapping his hands, “I’ll go pack and we’ll meet at the hangar in-”

“What? Now?” Amy exclaimed in surprise.

Alighieri, sitting next to her, sighed tiredly after dealing for many hours with the flighty man. “Do you even know if there are any flights leaving for Moscow anytime soon?” He asked Mr Blue as they started following after the man.

Amy turned her head to the Agent with a raised eyebrow, “That’s without counting on the fact that the closest international airport is in _Manchester!_ ”

Mr Blue paid for his drink and walked out of the pub, completely ignoring their comments and actually scoffing. “And here I thought that since you’re with the CIA and SIS this would be more fun... but you’re actually making it sound so complicated and boring!” He whined, turning around in the middle of the street and rolling his eyes. “I’ve got a private jet, if you must know.”

Amy blinked in shock a few times. “Wow, PI pays that good? Why did no one tell me that before?” Mr Blue winked while making hitter-to motions with his fingers, but Alighieri turned to give her a ‘look’. “What?” She shrugged at the blond unapologetically, “I mean, have you seen that car?” She furiously moved her hands in the direction of the black Audi A1 where Mr Blue got into just then.

“It isn’t the PI work, sweetcheeks,” Mr Blue commented taking his head out of the window from the driver’s side, “It’s the blackmail material that some people like to pay outrageous sums of money to me, to keep them out of the newspapers. Some people do weird shit for apparencies sake.” With a shrug he shoved his head back into the vehicle and started the ignition, “I’ll send you the time and place for our flight, so don’t get your panties on a bunch. Later!”

And as they looked at the speeding man disappear in the distance, Amy got a sudden realization, “Wait, how is he going to deliver us any information?”

“He’s the best investigator in the UK. If he doesn’t know where your house is already, then I’d be very disappointed in him.”

“What?!” Amy hissed, outraged.

* * *

**Alias**

| 

Lyon Alexandre de Bourbon | Lon | Mr Blue  
  
---|---  
  
**Born**

| 

August 30, 1978 – France, Lyon  
  
**Complexion**

| 

188m tall, white-skinned, light-brown hair, golden-brown eyes.  
  
**Personal Information**

| 

1978; Born of Alphonse de Bourbon and Émile Jarre. **_R_** ** _ead appended page for extended family._**

INSA graduate, computer science degree. Private investigator. **_R_** ** _ead appended page for detailed records._**

Likes: Blue, books, Sweets, sightseeing, swordplay _(sabre master)_.

Dislikes: Children, guns, yellow, ghosts _(phasmophobia)_.

**Trained and dangerous. Headcount: 3 in the last month, final count of 21. Asset, avoid confrontations.**  
  
* * *

> Lyon: The best of things come in packages of three!
> 
> Amaryllis: ...
> 
> Dante: You need to find a new excuse, Lon.

* * *

They ended up travelling together for over a month; from Moscow to Tokyo, Miami, and other places. And after spending so much time together, Red Raven, 1265-Alighieri, and Mr Blue turned into Amy, Dante, and Lyon. The mission was over sooner than expected thanks to their joined effort; the mercenaries were good, but with all of the SIS and CIA’s resources put together, the roughs were discovered and soon after taken care of when a special team arrived to relieve the odd trio who busted the operation.

After witnessing with her own two eyes the level of proficiency the man had when getting information from his targets, Amy recommended the French man as an informant to the SIS when she returned to work, and soon after Mr Blue became common gossip around the building. Jokingly, when Dante called, he blamed her of stealing his contacts and they laughed about it together.

She also kept in contact with Lyon; and not thanks to Gary, ended up going out on dates with the man. It certainly helped that they shared their taste for reading lots of books and it had nothing to do with Lon's silver tongue. No, nope, nothing at all.

Now, let’s fast-forward three years and, somehow, Amy ended up in a three-way relationship with those two-

“Hello there,” Lyon suddenly whispered on Amy’s ear, startling her out of her thoughts. “What were you thinking so hard about, love?”

Thanks to his years of hiding around and sneaking to get close to his targets for information, Lyon possessed a lot more stealth than Amy can handle and so he enjoys taking her by surprise, laughing at her while Amy rages when he makes her release a sound.

Amy blinked a few times and smiled at her partner’s sparkling caramel eyes, “This book was a bit boring and for some reason, I ended up thinking about how I got two amazing boyfriends.”

Lyon sends her a blinding smile, “It was thanks to my unrelenting charisma, of course,” he said preening shamelessly like a peacock.

“It had nothing to do with you wanting in my pants, at the same time you were dating Amy, of course,” Dante told him wryly, bringing another chair to sit at the table and shaking a few droplets of water from his golden locks since the snowflakes melted after walking into the warm room.

“Dante?” Amy squealed, the book falling on the table with a loud thud as she launched to the arms of her favourite American man. “I thought you said next week! What are you doing here? Not that I'm complaining...”

Since the winter holidays were around the corner, she was hoping he’d have time to visit for a while before the new year, but this was way too soon. Something must have happened.

Lyon pouted and sarcastically commented, “What, no greeting for me? I feel so unloved right now.”

Dante snorted and let Amy stand to give their third a welcoming kiss before retaking her place on the forgotten chair.

It took Dante by surprise the first time Amy and Lyon invited him to share their bed. They wanted to start a polygamous relationship with him and he didn’t see any problem with trying; they went on a few friendly outings with each other for a while before it happened, so he wasn't really shocked when the invitation was spoken. He liked Amy when he first met her, but not enough to get mad at Lyon when news of their relationship reached his ears, he was just a little disappointed, but to go from there to a polyandry? …The proposal, while unexpected, was actually welcomed.

He was a little thrown aback at first, to be honest. It is something simply not done or accepted in society nowadays, but go try and explain that to the two eccentric beings he ended up becoming friends with. When he finally accepted — after two days or so — they started exploring the new mechanics of their relationship; it was awkward at first, for Dante anyway, but Amy and Lyon integrated him to the ongoing relationship with an easiness that surprised him but made everything natural.

Dante never thought of himself as anything but heterosexual, and then Lyon happened. Amy and Lyon put up a show for him after he first decided to give their idea a try, it was then that he started to realize that he was just sticking to the mold until then. He already knew that Lyon had a thing for him, the man’s flirting was anything but discreet, but until then Dante never took it seriously. When he did, looking at Amy and Lyon going at each other for _his_ enjoyment and throwing heated glances his way from time to time, he decided he liked watching Amy just as much as he enjoyed observing Lyon.

“I’ve been assigned an investigation around here, actually,” Dante loosened the knot on his tie and thanked the waitress who brought his black coffee just then.

“Oh?” Amy hummed with curiosity and ordered another warm cup for herself before the woman left.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Lyon said rolling his eyes and sipping his tea, “He’s here for the same ridiculous thing I got to leave to investigate last week.”

Amy snorted a laugh. “What? Oh my God,” she turned wide eyes to the blond Agent, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

But Dante only shocked his head, “No. I’m actually as surprised as you are.”

“Why is the CIA chasing after ghost stories now?”

“Beats me,” Dante shrugged. “I only know the basics and _that_ was enough to make me scowl at the Boss. She didn’t want to explain further afterwards. Seeing is believing she claimed and left me with the arrangements for the flight and orders to report anything suspicious I encountered on the site.”

“Stonehenge and magic,” Amy rolled her eyes, “Seriously.”

“Anyway,” Dante grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles softly, “Since I’m here after far too long, and with some petty mission I’m sure is going to be nothing but a loss of my time, how about you ask for an exemption and accompany me to Salisbury for the week?”

“Cool,” Amy smiled, “Let’s visit Stonehenge, I’ve never been.”

Lyon made a face, “It’s not that big of a deal. I don’t understand what all the fuss is about... watching a bunch of rocks.”

“Yeah,” Amy nodded in agreement, “That’s why I never visited before, but if we’re going there together then it’s worth it.”

Dante sighed, smiling softly and shaking his head, “You two, really. It’s not the same reading about the place and visiting, you know?”

“If you say so,” Lyon shot back wryly.

“How did I get stuck with a pair of nerds?” Dante fake-lamented in a whisper, earning taps on the shoulders from his partners’ hands.

“But, if I have to go again,” Lyon continued after glaring at the blond, “I’m not staying all day snooping around and boring myself to death. I’m done with that. What else is there to do around the place?” He asked turning to Amy.

“What? Am I called google maps all of a sudden now?” Amy moved her glare to a new target, but the French-man only cocked his head and stared back with shining eyes at her. “Ugh, fine. The Amesbury Abbey, Woodhenge, and some barrows are all around there and supposed to be interesting.”

“Barrows?” Lyon grimaced.

“There is also the All Saints Church a bit more to the north if you’re interested in that kind of stuff instead,” Amy shrugged. “Or the Bonnymead Park, south of the Abbey,” she added with a malicious grin.

“I’m not sure I even want to know what a ‘Bonnymead whatever' is,” Lyon mumbled warily.

“Well,” Dante said barely repressing a laugh, “Considering your phasmophobia, I’d reconsider visiting a cemetery…” and he couldn’t hold it any more when the man paled considerably immediately after his comment.

“I don’t have a ghost phobia,” Lyon fought weakly, making his sneer useless as his fidgeting gave him away.

“Where are we staying at anyway?” Amy asked turning to Dante.

The American, for his part, was still chuckling at his glowering partner. “The groundskeeper graciously accepted the unexpected news of paid holidays and is going to leave the keys of his cottage for us to use for the next month.”

“A month?” Amy and Lyon exclaimed with matching grins.

“I’m taking my games and books,” Amy mumbled right after, starting to plan all the stuff she’ll need to take with her, a little bit hastily. “Oh wait, I have to ask for permission first. Damn.”

After a moment of letting the horror replace his starting enthusiasm, Lyon changed to thoughtful and hummed with a finger under his chin, “Imagine all the fun we can have then. It’s not every day we can have you around for an entire month…”

And Dante started to sweat a little at that, he doesn’t know how Lyon has the energy all the time to keep going no matter what, but his partner is such a slut. Feeling suddenly heated, Dante took off his tie and popped open the first button on his shirt, swallowing thickly and messing his hair by shoving nervous hands through it. After two years on a relationship with them and only one time before able to spend that long together without their jobs interrupting, Dante knew exactly what the next month would be like...

* * *

> Amaryllis: Stonehenge isn’t that exciting... _*shit happens*_ ... Okay, I retract my words.

* * *

Lyon sat on the carpet a few days later, his back against the couch and Amaryllis between his legs. The woman was explaining to him the mechanics of her favourite game, while Dante, as usual these past few days, sat by the window of the cottage with his binoculars at hand as he waited for anything to happen around Stonehenge.

Which never did.

But Lyon isn’t much for complicated games, yet, Amy is still teaching him; so, he decided to play instead some silly thing called Animal Crossing that Amy acquired early because she has a friend that sent the game from Japan. None of them know Japanese, but he wants to try it anyway. They already played Tetris and monopoly more times than he cares to remember.

After five days in the cottage, Lyon supposes he’s ready to grab the car soon and disappear for a while, somewhere, anywhere, for several hours, and enjoy civilization once more. The only saving grace for him is that he remembered to pack his laptop, where he has stored many virtual copies of interesting books to read… and Freecell Solitary. There are only so many times a day he can train with his sabre before becoming too sore, or read the same books, play the same games with Amy... They should have brought along more board gam-

“What the hell is that?!” Dante shouted suddenly, getting to his feet and taking a look through the binoculars.

Amy and Lyon shared a look while the blond run off the room after a pause, putting on his sneakers by the door and taking out his small silenced pistol. Sharing the concern, the two partners left at the cabin grabbed the binoculars and took off after Dante, keeping their distance, but close enough to intervene if something dangerous happened.

As they closed-in to Stonehenge, they could observe a strange phenomenon taking place in the middle of the odd rocks’ arrangement. Dante moved stealthily around the place, covering his movements with the big bulks of the stones while taking a survey of the silent plains. Amy and Lyon, a good distance away, kept an eye on him for a couple of minutes, until Dante simply stood in the middle of the circle and looked around as if confused. Then, they approached.

Amy was the first to arrive next to the blond, also looking around in confusion. _What did Dante saw to make him react so suddenly?_ She wondered.

“Everything okay?” Lyon asked, still standing by the edge of the outer circle, while Amy and Dante stood closer to the centre.

“I thought I saw something…”

“Something like people, lights… or maybe ghosts?” She glanced back at her French lover and caught his slight shiver, causing her smile to widen.

“Lights, I think,” Dante commented, ignorant of Lyon’s plight at the moment since he was so focussed looking around, trying to find the source of the odd light-show he caught before.

“Well, I don’t see anything now,” Amy shrugged, starting to walk around the inner circle of stones.

Dante hummed thoughtfully, and seeing nothing to worry about, Lyon relaxed and decided to step closer to his partners; just in case anything happened.

“ _Merde 1_,” Lyon cursed in a whisper, walking next to Amy and looking at the sides suspiciously, “This is so fucking stressing. Tomorrow I’m going to go and visit Amesbury. I’ll buy a shit-ton of alcohol and we’re getting pass-out drunk when I return. Maybe we can get Dante to stop worrying so much for these stupid stones for a while then.”

Amy laughed softly at him, grabbing his arm and putting it around her shoulders, enjoying the warm embrace, “Okay.”

Ending an entire walk around the place, they arrive at the middle once more and found Dante frowning at the earth.

“Did the grass offended you somehow, Dan?” Amy giggled, skipping closer to the blond and hugging him from the back, “It’s cold, let’s go back inside.”

“Is that charred?” Lyon asked, surprised.

Amy followed his line of sight, and indeed, some of the grass looked slightly darker than the rest, some wisps of white raising from it and disappearing in the cold air of the night.

“Uh… Did someone came to start a fire in the middle of freaking Stonehenge, on a fucking cold December midnight?” Amy said with disbelief.

Dante opened his mouth to say something to the still smiling Amy and a freaked out Lyon, but then, as if waiting for them to decide to leave, a black something swallowed Stonehenge and they _fell._ He heard Lyon’s yell and loud cursing, along with Amy’s scared scream, but soon everything turned dark and he knew no more…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Merde: Shit. French.


	2. Different everything!

> Dante: Where the fuck am I?
> 
> Lyon: Where the fuck are we?
> 
> Amaryllis: …Where the fuck are my BOOBS?!

* * *

When she wakes up, she thinks she remembers some flashes of light like lightning and some feelings of movement, like riding in a really wild roller coaster but also being pulled on many different directions at the same time, but that’s it. The next time Amy opens her eyes and is aware of her surroundings, she groans as she doesn’t recognize the setting. Wasn’t she on a short holiday…?

Her eyes widening, and forgetting about the soreness on her body, Amy sits up quickly. But just as fast, she hugs her head and whines. A pounding headache makes itself at home inside her skull, dizziness threatens to make her fall, and nausea causes her to swallow thickly at the uncomfortable feeling growing on his throat. Hands appear and help her lay down once more and her body relaxes involuntarily since the uncomfortable feelings abate a little.

Her breath comes out shallow until she’s all calm again, and then she opens her eyes once more.

This time she’s greeted by two others, looking down at her from the next bed that looks just as uncomfortable as the lumpy thing she’s lying onto. Blinking owlishly, she gathers information about her surrounding, becoming more confused and worried by the second.

The _kids_ sitting on the bed look odd; one has yellowish skin, while the other’s is dark. Their clothes look familiar, but at the same time something she’s never seen anyone wear. One of them has hair like gold, in contrast with the fiery red mane of the other. The first has golden eyes, much like the sclera, odd; and the second has… red eyes? And then, looking at their faces, she notices the pointy ears. Amy twitches with shocked recognition.

Swallowing dry saliva, she turns her head and takes stock of the room next. The ceiling, the walls, the floor, and the entirety of the furniture is made out of wood; rough wood, barely treated, without any type of varnish or details. Small little things here and there are made out of metals and some other materials.

When her eyes land on the burning lights mounted on the walls made out of animal horns, Amy knows right then and there that something is very, _very_ wrong.

The uncomfortably feeling coming from her body is what she focuses on next. She raises a hand, turning it this and that way, taking notice of the way too different skin-tone immediately, then the size — her hand wasn’t that small! — and finally the lack of her red nail polish. And talking about lacking… her chin pushes against her sternum to look down her body and Amy releases a gasp.

“Where the fuck are my bobs?!” She wails, now completely mad. She didn’t feel their weight, but thought nothing of it until just now when she looked down and saw nothing! On the back of her mind, while she’s freaking out about her lack of chest, her brains take notice of her voice being different too.

“What did I tell you?” One of the kids speaks up, looking at the other with an amused laugh. “First thing she noticed? Her tits… or lack thereof.” Snickering, the yellow guy ignores the punch on his arm from the other kid, who merely rolled his eyes at the comment.

Amy turns her enraged eyes in their direction to tear them a new one, but then she finally connects the familiar bone structure and expressions on their faces with those of her two lovers; her heart does a flip on her chest and she welcomes the darkness embracing her once more with relief. That was just too much.

The second time, Amy wakes up with barely a reaction. She’s sleeping one moment, and the next awake and walking in front of one of the kids with just one question rolling around in her head.

“Llyon?” She whispers with a small wink of hope.

“Who else?” The yellow one rolled his eyes.

“You’re an Altmer…”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“…”

“If we are stating the obvious,” someone else comments and Amy gawks again, turning to find the red-head on another bed, “I’m a… what was it? A Dunmer?” And he starts pocking his pointy ears. “Look at this thing!” That is clearly Dante by his attitude and lack of outward expression, but beyond that, he’s changed a lot. “And you-”

Amy flinches at his pointed finger, her body feels alien enough already without the need to point it out... but beyond that, she looks down at her hands with a poker face.

“You’re a Bosmer,” the two of them answer in unison.

Amy’s wide eyes wander up, meeting their amused faces, “How did this happen…?”

“No idea,” Dante shrugged. “One moment we were standing in Stonehenge, and the next, darkness. I woke up just a few minutes before Lyon did. I recognized him, otherwise, I’d have left this place already.”

“This is Skyrim, isn’t it?” Llyon asks her suddenly, looking out the window.

Amy follows his line of sight and sighs, “I think so…?”

“We should take a look around,” Dante comments standing up from the end of the bed he was sitting at. “My instincts are screaming at me to take an assessment of the dangers around us, but I didn’t want to leave you alone and Lyon wouldn’t let me leave by myself.”

“You don’t just look like a midget now,” Lyon spat angrily, “You have the strength of one too. It’s too dangerous to wander around alone.”

With an eye roll, but without further comments, the three walked out of the door. Everything in the rooms looked just as shiver-inducingly similar as they did in the game, it was quite unnerving for Amy. Skyrim may be a wonderful game, but living it? That’s something she can live without experiencing. There are many wrong things with Skyrim. Scratch that, Mundus in its fullest. Just the simple thought of actual Gods interacting with the world, beings so powerful… it chills her to the bones.

Taking a step on the ‘fresh’ air of the outside world, the pungent smell of fish and the wastes from the canal make them gag. Ugh! How can anyone live there, is beyond their comprehension! Lyon, used to the commodities his money afforded him, was the most disgusted of the three.

“Oh my…” he gagged, barely holding in the need to get sick all over the floor, “We’re getting out of here. ASAP!”

“Yes, I think I agree,” Dante said with a grimace.

Meanwhile, Amy registered the smell secondly, for she was more concerned about the sight in front of her. Once the blinding shine of the sun receded and she saw the city for herself, the wonder of it all actually settled in her. She was scared, yes, but also, _this is Skyrim!_

“Oh my God,” the woman turned girl whispered. Her feet conduced her a few steps ahead of her partners, where she grabbed onto the railing and felt the rough texture of the wood under her palms while observing the lively market bustling with people in the heart of the city of Riften. Guards patrolled around the place, while beggars sat or walked around while asking for money, merchants loudly announced their wares, and some nobles dressed in richer clothes than everyone else sneered at everything. Some thin trees were scattered around, naked from any leaf as it obviously is winter, what with the snow all over the place and the chilling air. Even down on the canal, some people move around taking things from boats or filling them with crates and bag to transport out of the city.

Behind the market, Amy could observe a big building were The Bee and Barb must be located. To her left, the blacksmith and the warehouse and fishery blocked some of the view, but that was clearly Lake Honrich. To the right, Black-Briar Manor looked as big as she expected, with the small courtyard and the Temple of Mara right next to it, and some other houses beyond, leading to the gates of the city where she was sure she'd find the stables beyond them.

And finally, turning to look at her back Amy gasped for the hundredth time in so many minutes. Mistveil Keep, home of the Jarl of Riften, was even more impressive than the game made it look. The tall stone wall surrounding it and the many soldiers patrolling the galleries and corridors looked that much imposing, while the construction itself dwarfed the rest of the building in the hold with its impressive size.

“So… Skyrim?” Lyon asked, embracing Amy quite awkwardly as she was just too small now.

Incapable of speech, Amy merely nodded. The shock, wonder and fear making a mess of her usually orderly and peaceful mind. Dante observed her with worry, but he was itching so badly that he couldn't wait for her to recover and started tugging on her arm, wanting to tour the city and make a recognisance of their immediate surroundings and threats.

* * *

> Lyon. Now what?
> 
> Amarillys: We need money, let’s find a job.
> 
> Dante: B-but we look like children!
> 
> Amaryllis: So? This is Skyrim! Don't expect it to make much sense.

* * *

They walked around the city in silence, keeping watch over Amy who looked disturbed for a long while; and once Dante was satisfied for the day, they returned to the orphanage. A young Grelod was waiting for them inside the entrance room and her attitude was just as nasty as the older version made out of pixels.

“Finally, you deign to appear!” The sneer warped her face in an ugly manner. “If you think you’ll get to slack off only because you’re some pompous' elven spawn, then you have another thing coming. You better get this place clean from top to bottom by the end of the day, or I swear I’ll give you the hiding of your lives and then leave you in the backroom to rot for a week on your own filth!”

The three grown-ups inside the body of children looked at the woman in horror for long silent seconds, until she started to bray once more trying to get them to react. They run off into the big room at the end of the building, only to find an assortment of brooms and buckets with water waiting there.

“…unbelievable!” Grelod mumbled coming behind them. “I won’t stand for this kind of attitude. You better learn some manners, or I’ll beat them into you. Damnable brats.” She left closing the doors to the dormitory with force and the three flinched at the sound.

“That woman is so awful,” Dante whispered in the middle of the silence, expressing the others’ thoughts to perfection.

“No wonder Aventus sends the Dark Brotherhood after that crazy hag in the future,” Amy spoke for the first time in more than an hour.

“What is the Dark Brotherhood? I don’t think you’ve mentioned that before,” Lyon asked with curiosity.

Amy grimaced, “The cult of assassins that worship Sithis, the deity of emptiness and the void.”

“Right, Gods are a thing here,” Lyon mentioned at the same time Dante turned crazed eyes in their direction.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“What?”

“Deity? Gods?”

“Oh, right,” Amy sighed, “You know nothing about Skyrim.”

“I think I should feel concerned,” Lyon mumbled as he paced around the room, spying at all the holes around the place, “But I just can’t find it in myself to bother. We are in a different world! How awesome is that?”

“I’m elated,” Dante deadpanned.

“I’m unendingly confused,” Amy plopped on the closest bed. “This shouldn’t be possible… Dan, what did your boss sent you to look for at Stonehenge again?”

Dante shrugged, “Anything suspicious? Apparently, a man was found there very often with odd scientific equipment, running around and screaming crazy stuff, upsetting the tourists, and was committed since he was braying mad once they were able to catch him. Also, he had a big bag full of medication on his van when they found it.”

“Any names?”

Dante hummed, “Selvig something, something.”

“The Doctor?!” Amy’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Is he someone important? I must confess I haven’t had the time to research his file yet, I had many reports to read so I merely skimmed his profile folder.”

“Erik Selvig is a very well-known astrophysicist. He’s supposed to start working at the University of London next term! …But he won’t now, I imagine, if he's been committed to the nuthouse.”

“Erik Selvig... Erik Selvig... Erik Selvig?!” Dante cocked his head, deep in thought. “I knew I found that name familiar, but until now I didn't remember why,” he said slumping over the bed as he got back some ideas of where he heard that name before.

“Yes, well, he’s quite famous for his work-”

“No, no, no!” Dante shook his head furiously, “If we ever return home, you didn’t hear this from me,” he said pointing a threatening finger at Amy and waiting for her nod. “That guy was in the middle of the headache that took place in New York at the beginning of the year. He was apprehended right on top of Stark Tower actually. I was there working with the rest of my team, at least until those SHIELD guys showed up.”

“Ugh!” Amy grunted, “They are so annoying!”

“I suppose… it was something that fell under their jurisdiction?” Dante grimaced, “Alien portals.”

“What if something like that happened to us?” Lyon said joining the conversation once more.

“Something like what? Portals?”

“That!” Lyon nodded, sitting next to Amy. “What if the darkness we fell into in Stonehenge, was actually some kind of portal that transported us into this world?”

Dante sat up, looking at the French with slanted eyes, “That’s an idea…”

“So, we just fell from one planet to another?” Amy asked, confused. “But, the physics of this universe are entirely different.”

“You think this is a different universe?” Dante cocked an eyebrow, “How so?”

Amy rolled her eyes, “There is no space to speak of in this universe, _to start with_. Nirn is a planet, sure, but Masser and Secunda, the moons, are Lorkhan’s body quite literally. Just like the rest of the planets surrounding this one who are the inert bodies of the Divines, the Gods.” She shakes her head, “Even the starts are explained as the tears in the fabric of reality left by the Magna Ge when they left from Mundus to Aetherius, not physical objects like in our universe, but quite literal holes from this world, though Oblivion, and into Aetherius.”

“I…” Dante was so confused, “I think I need you to explain a few things for me.”

“Sure,” Amy replied with an easy shrug, “But I think we should leave first. I don’t fancy dealing with Grelod for too long or I run the risk of turning into a murderer as a kid. Seriously, I dislike children, but not even I would treat a kid the way she does.”

“She looked bad but, would she really physically abuse children?” Lyon said doubtfully.

In answer, Amy walked to the back of the room and opened the doors to the right, where the bathroom slash torture room was located. The manacles were already there, just as she hoped. They’ll get it easier this way. There was even a little rust on the floor that was clearly old dried blood.

“This is where Grelod puts the children who misbehave, to teach them her twisted lessons.” She turned to find the two standing at her back. “Do you really want to risk the hospitality of Grelod the Kind?”

“The Kind, really?”

“Irony, dear.”

“No shit,” Lyon snorted.

“Let’s get out of here before **_I_** commit murder,” Dante growled with a menacing frown.

* * *

After getting out of the orphanage from one of the windows, they avoided notice the best they could and hid inside the open mausoleum, where the secret entrance to the Thieves Guild is located. People usually avoid such places unless they’re visiting a tombstone, so what better place to hide than that?

Lyon and Amy sat to either side of the entrance, while Dante rested against the ‘coffin.’ He was the look-out, in case anyone approached. And then, Amy started explaining to her boys how this world worked as far as she knew. It was a lot of information since she has an almost eidetic memory but not quite.

“So Gods, magic, fantastic creatures, and crazy supernatural accidents — and not so much as accidents — are a thing here,” Dante said with dread. “And to think at the Agency we freaked out about an alien invasion that didn’t last for even half a day…”

“Loki and Thor are supposed to be Gods…” Lyon pointed out.

“They come from another world, they’re just aliens,” Amy contradicted with an eye-roll.

“Loki had magic,” Lyon said again.

“That’s true,” she hummed at the rebuke.

Dante looked at them from the side, his mind reeling back from all the new information and possible dangers he had no idea how to deal with. What is he supposed to do in this world now? He has no guns to combat any possible threat, he's positively lost and knows next to nothing of Skyrim, and let's not start him on the 'they're kids again' thing!

“I suppose we can’t possibly know if there were any supernatural creatures back in our world…” Amy shrugged.

“So, this world isn’t that different. It’s just that magic and Gods are common knowledge here,” Lyon continued. “I’m not looking forward to the dragons though.”

Amy waved a hand dismissively, “We can simply leave for Cyrodiil or somewhere else by then. What was the date again? I wasn’t really paying attention when you talked to that guard…”

“Fifteen of evening star, whatever that means. That was when we arrived three days ago when the hunters found us unconscious; so eighteen today.”

“The same date that should be back in England. Evening Star is our December. We lost a day though.”

“Maybe it could be that travelling between worlds, or universes, or whatever takes time?”

“It could be… What year is it though? Do you remember?”

“Fourth era maybe?” Amy nodded and Lyon continued, “Humm, fourth era one hundred and ninety-something.”

“Ninety-two,” Dante jumped into the conversation, his head done freaking out because of the discrepancies of this new reality and his old world.

“Oh,” Amy perked up, “We have ample time before the dragons appear then. They’ll start showing up again by the year two hundred and one, so we have easily ten years without fire-breathing menaces becoming a danger.”

“We don’t have to worry about them then. Good,” Dante sighed in relief. “What other supernatural creatures are there of concern, Amy?”

The Bosmer grimaced, “You’re not going to like it... there are way too many of them.”

Dante’s countenance hardened, “Then we better learn about them sooner rather than later, to be able to recognise and avoid or repel them as needed.”

“There is a civil war going on at the moment, because of the White-Gold Concordat I told you about. Jarl Ulfric is the leader of the Stormcloaks, who wants to be able to worship their God Talos freely; the Thalmor are the Altmer enforcers, who skulk around incarcerating anyone found worshipping Talos and breaking the Concordat; while the Imperial Legion is under the charge of General Tullius and works on stopping the rebellion; so you can imagine how many outlaws are peaking from their hiding holes all over the province at the huge chance they have in front of them. They’re the more dangerous thing you can find in Skyrim right now instead of monsters.”

“Mercenaries,” Dante grunted in distaste. “What else?”

“Werewolves?” Lyon tried helpfully.

Amy shook her head though, “No. Simple wolves are more common; they travel in packs and are unafraid of attacking people getting close. Skeevers are basically giant rats, the size of a small dog, and carry many diseases. Frostbite spiders are a thing to look out for too, although they are deeper in the forests, usually — they spit paralyzing venom and grow as big as a horse, more so in secluded areas where no one can find them. There are also bears, who are incredibly resilient, but not more than trolls; if you see a troll just run in the opposite direction, I don’t think we can fight one as we are right now. In some forest, there are Wisp Mothers, ethereal like creatures with female shapes, and small balls of light that travel alongside them. Those and Spriggans — creatures resembling humanoid trees — attack anyone close by. In bodies of water, you should also be on the lookout for slaughterfish, who are basically piranhas, but way more dangerous as they don’t need to follow the taste of blood to turn crazed and attack someone.”

“That’s a lot…” Lyon said with glassy eyes.

“I’m not done yet,” Amy smiled hearing their displeased grunts. “Necromancers are found around too, along with battling flame/frost mages who are eternally on a pissing contest amongst each other about who’s element is the best. And finally, on the mountains are stronger version of the forest’s creatures; Ice wolves, ice wraiths, snow bears, frost trolls. On the other hand, there are also creatures on a whole different level of danger than those; vampires, who can infect us with Sanguinare Vampiris just by getting close and three days later we’ll turn into bloodthirsty vampires ourselves; werewolves who can turn others by a mere scratch; Daedras roaming the land unchecked after a faulty summoning are also a thing; and Daedric Princes, who are by all means Gods that amuse themselves by using mortals for their own purposes and will easily cause anyone’s death in one way or another. While the lot of them are way more dangerous and intelligent, they aren't as easy to find roaming about.”

“Aren’t any of the Princes good guys?” Lyon asked with curiosity.

Amy shrugged, “How can a God be good or bad? They are what they are. I don’t think I can possibly understand a God’s reasoning.”

“What is the difference between the Divines and the Daedra anyway?” Dante asked, also stuck about the idea of Gods mingling in a world of mortals. “How is it that Daedric Princes are considered dangerous, but not the Divines?”

“The Divines created this world by sacrificing their physical selves. If they stopped sustaining the world with their energies, then the world would collapse, so they can’t interact with the world directly without causing damage. There are eight of them, or nine if you count Talos, the supposed human turn God a-la-Jesus style. While the Daedric Princes in the other hand are sixteen — the ones known about by mortals anyway — and they had nothing to do with the creation of the world because they couldn’t be bothered about participating. People usually call them demons and don’t count them as Gods, except for those who worship the Princes. They all rule over their own realm of Oblivion and can interact with people in this world if they wish, but for short amounts of time and without causing harm or alerting the Divines to their presence. There are two things keeping the Daedra from invading Nirn and just taking over; the first one is ‘ _The Pact between Aedra and Daedra_ ’, that decrees that no Daedric Prince may fully interfere with Mundus, or enter another Prince's plane of Oblivion, unless invited; the second is ‘ _The Covenant of Akatosh_ ’, which was a deal made between said God and Alessia, queen of the first human Empire — basically, Akatosh gave the queen some of his blood, that keeps an eternal flame burning and forgoes the Gates of Oblivion from opening and letting the Daedra roam Nirn as they please. Some Daedric Princes would do anything to take over Tamriel if give half a chance. The Lord of Domination and the Lord of Destruction just to name the two most famous who attacked directly and are best remembered.”

“Too much!” Lyon exclaimed when Amy finally made a pause to clear her dried throat. “Back to the dangers of this world from manageable sources. Is there something else we should worry about?”

“There is only one other threat I can think about right now,” Amy replied with amusement at his reaction. “The Dark Brotherhood.”

“The assassins?” Dante asked, frowning with concern.

“Everyone claims to hate them, and they’ve been hunted to almost extinction, but there is a surviving chapter still here in Skyrim. And also, Cicero, keeping the mummified body of the Night Mother safe in… uh… Oh, right, Cheydinhal. They still get contracts though, since they pick rumours of people realizing the black sacrament, which they later contact and take on the contract to kill whoever stole anyone’s sweetroll that day. They lost power, but they are still out there and we may end up on their list if someone gets angry at us for looking at them or their chicken in the wrong way.”

“That’s not funny, Amy,” Dante chastised her for her wording.

“Please,” Amy rolled her eyes, “Most of the missions in the game were about petty things. A scorned lover taking revenge on her lying ex, a politician wanting more power, a mercy killing of a crazy beggar. They’re shameless, the bunch of them; and as petty as their motives. But yes, the brotherhood is still dangerous.”

“What are we going to do anyway? We can’t return to the orphanage,” Lyon said looking in the direction of the building with a frown.

“We are not returning,” Dante shook his head with a determined tone. “That woman is a danger to us while we’re this weak,” he said looking down at his hands and clenching his fists.

“What did the soldier you talked to say again? Something about the Jarl giving an order to Grelod?” Amy mused.

Lyon clicked his fingers with sudden vigour, “She should have all the things we were found with! The hunters that brought us to the city left everything with the Jarl, who send them to the orphanage later. We should search for answers there.”

“Well,” Amy stood up, “The orphanage isn’t that big, I’m sure we can find those things pretty easily.”

“What about Grelod?” Dante asked.

“We knock her unconscious and search around the place?” Lyon suggested completely unflappable.

“That’s…”

“Come on, Dan,” Amy scowled, “She’s just a vicious woman who abuses children under her care. Don’t bring out your morals for her sake.”

Dante sighed, defeated, “You’re right.”

“She’ll just get a little swelling on the back of her head for a few days, don’t sweat it so much man,” Lyon snickered. “It’s not like we’re drugging her or something.”

“That’s it,” Amy brightened, “I’m learning magic! With an invisibility or paralysis spell, this would be so much easier.”

As the older and stronger of the three, Lyon took the initiative of walking up to Grelod and distract her, while Dante and Amy hit her on the back. And just as Amy said, their things were lying about in a corner of the woman’s room. It wasn’t much, but since they were practically penniless until then, the bags with golden coins they found were welcomed. There were also three bags with clothes and some miscellaneous things that they took with them before leaving. Not much, but better than having completely nothing to their names.

They returned to the cemetery after packing some fruit in their bags just in case they needed it and sat a while longer in the mausoleum to talk and define their future actions. The most important thing at the moment was finding some way to earn an income, find a place to sleep, and simply survive; so, they separated in search of work. The sun was setting high in the sky already, maybe it was closer to twelve than eleven already, and they were starting to feel hunger, which made them realize they’ll need food. Fortunately for them, Skyrim has no laws about children working, so they can earn Septims if they find something to do.

Amy’s idea of probably joining the Thieves Guild was promptly shot down by Dante, the most moral out of the three of them. Lyon was the only one with a chance to get into the Guild since he’s better at stealth than the rest of them, but the man didn’t feel like trying too hard, more out of disgust than anything else, since Amy explained their base of operation is in the sewers. Dante for his part wanted to try something outdoors, as usual. While Amy thought that she could try her luck with magic or cooking.

“I’ll leave for the inn then,” Lyon said walking away, “There is nothing easier than getting secrets from drunk people and blackmail always paid off in the past for me.”

Amy led Dante away, to show him the stables, and Lyon walked through the Temple’s courtyard, ignoring the suspicious look from the guy with the tunic coming from inside. But, before he could scurry off, the man called for him.

“Wait, kid!” Lyon walked faster. So did the man. “Aren’t you the one the hunters found? I’m talking to you!”

Hurried footsteps followed after him and a hand on his shoulder stopped Lyon from opening the door to The Bee and Barb. He turned to the man, getting a good look of the dark-skinned individual hiding under the hood of the robes.

“Yes?” He asked cautiously.

“Don’t worry kid, I just wanted to ask how you’re faring. I’m the one who healed you when the hunters carried you into the city.”

“Oh, thank you,” Lyon said sheepishly. “Do you mind if we talk then? I fear I don’t remember anything before waking in the orphanage.”

The man looked down pitifully at him for a moment, before smiling and opening the door to the inn invitingly.

“Let me invite you to lunch my son, we can talk over some food as it looks like it’ll do you some good.”

Lyon nodded and followed the older man into the bustling tavern, where they sat in a table against a pillar. He waited while the man talked to the strange lizard-like female and ordered their meals.

“I hope you like vegetables,” the man said smiling at him, “Keerava only has potato soup left.”

“It’s fine, I won’t complain about a free meal,” Lyon smiled in return, thankful to have anything to eat at all when a few minutes earlier he wasn’t sure he’d get to eat more than an apple today. “I don’t mean to be rude but, I don’t know your name…”

“Ah, of course, where are my manners? You may call me Maramal. I’m a priest of Mara here in Riften. And who might you be, my young friend?”

“My name is Lyon.”

“Do you remember where you are from?”

“No,” Lyon shook his head, following the outlined plan he discussed before with Amy and Dante, when they were talking about what to do about their past which they had no idea about; claim amnesia was the answer. “I remember my name, and my friends', but nothing else.”

Maramal hummed and looked at him with worry, “That is most troublesome. What about your parents?”

“No idea,” Lyon shrugged.

“And your friends?”

“They don’t remember anything either. When we woke up, we almost didn’t recognize each other. It was very confusing.”

“I can only imagine,” Maramal answered perplexed. “Such a disturbing notion, losing all knowledge of oneself. I healed your body, but your mind is beyond my powers, child. I’m truly sorry.”

Lyon shook his head, humming, “No, don’t worry. I understand. It’s not your fault. I’m just worried about my family; I can only imagine how worried they are, if I have any left. But at least I have my friends with me…”

Maramal nodded and they paused the conversation, eating the steaming stew Keerava delivered with relish. It was a simple affair, but good enough.

“So, what is your job as a Priest of Mara?” Lyon asked once they finished their food and the eyes of the priest immediately brightened.

“Since you lost your memories… am I right in assuming you don’t know about our Lady Mara?” At Lyon’s shaking head the man smiled, “Well, out of the Nine Divines, Lady Mara is the Goddess of Marriage and Love. Her domain encompasses the emotions we strive the most to embrace; love, compassion and understanding. The temple spreads her gifts by tending to the sick, the poor, and the lost. We also perform wedding ceremonies for all the loving couples in Skyrim.”

Lyon perked up at this, wondering what is socially accepted in these lands. He never gave it much thought to the idea of marriage since his relationship wasn’t accepted by the law and they couldn’t get married, but maybe Skyrim is different?

“I could have a wedding at the temple, then?”

Maramal laughed heartily, “Yes. If you were ready, of course; but you’re way too young now.”

“Can’t you tell me about it anyway?” Lyon smirked innocently.

“If you’re really interested, I don’t see the harm,” Maramal shrugged. “Very well, typically, love in Skyrim is as earnest as the people who live here. Life is hard and short, so there is little room for long courtship. A person who is looking for a spouse simply wears an Amulet of Mara about the neck, showing they are available. When another person shows interest, and the two agree to be together, one of them comes to the Temple and we arrange a ceremony.”

“Really?” Lyon exclaimed in surprise, “Is it that easy?”

“It is,” Maramal smiled benevolently.

“Can two women or two men marry? What about multiple partners? Is it accepted? Do they have to pay something to the Temple for the ceremony? Is anything else needed besides the Amulet of Mara? What about-”

Maramal’s laugh cut his questions short and Lyon smiled internally since his act worked. Ask lots of questions like a kid and be treated like one, which is to say, not seriously at all. And if polygamy isn’t accepted in Skyrim, well, too bad, but at least he’ll get his answer.

“Mara accepts love in all shapes and forms. Our only requirement at the Temple is that all and any participants be of age and free will,” the Priest continued talking in earnest, clearly happy to be listened to so attentively. “The Temple also accepts donations all year long, but people certainly leave offerings in gratitude when we rend a service to them or if they are visiting from faraway places. And to answer another of your questions, if you ever wish to marry, during the ceremony is tradition to offer you partner a token of your love; it is common for the exchange to be mutual and the most often used token is a gold or silver ring, but a necklace or a headband is often used too. Do you have any other questions?”

“Yes, but this is about something else. Do you have any idea where I could get a job?”

* * *

> Lyon: Khajiits?
> 
> Amaryllis: Barbed pen-ssshspf… _*glares*_
> 
> Dante: This world is so disturbing.

* * *

“Hofgrir Horse-Crusher?” Dante asked, standing behind a tall man of hair so pale-blond that he almost confused it for white.

“What is it?” The man asked briskly, turning around and startling as he caught sight of him.

Amy warned him that the man acts and talks with vigour, disliking ‘weaklings’ and preferring to show his strength and he didn’t disappoint. He certainly looks like a stoic and strong man. Hopefully, he'll get a job with Hofgrir, the other option is fishing and he's not much enthused about _that_.

“A Dunmer kid?” Hofgrir asked surprised. “Aren’t you one of the younglings the hunters brough? What do you need, lad?”

“I was wondering if you had any job for me? I’d prefer not to depend on the hag running the orphanage if at all possible. I promise I can take care of anything you can throw at me, if you just give me a chance.” After his training at the army, he doubts anything can stop him. Except for his young and weak body... for now.

Hofgrir took an appraising look at him and nodded, “Tell you what, I like the look in your eyes. I’ll give you some tasks for the day and if by the end of it you’ve worked diligently, then I’ll have you become my apprentice. How about that?”

“Yes, sir!” Dante straightened in attention, energized by his luck. “Where should I start?”

“So much energy,” Hofgrir laughed in good humour, “That’s the attitude I like! But first, let’s get a good meal in you to avoid falling out of stamina in the middle of the job. I’m sure you run off the first chance you got away from Grelod, Divines know the woman is an harpy. I’d run too in your place. Once we’ve got some food, I’ll tell you what is good to feed the horses, how I get them their water, and how to groom them; and if you’re still here tomorrow, you’ll learn how to muck out and where they usually go grazing.”

The man walked them to a campsite a minute or so away from the stables, near the lake and easily visible from the main road, where a bunch of cat-like people moved around. Coming from a world without their kind, Dante almost gave himself away and recoiled from the unknown and startling view.

“This is the Khajiit caravan lead by Ahkari, she cooks a mean horker soup and I always come by when they are around. We are friendly to them, got it, boy?” Hofgrir smiled satisfied when Dante merely nodded, looking with wide eyes at the first beast-race he encountered from up close.

What followed was one of Dante’s most bizarre experience. The Khajiit were quite welcoming of them and happily sat to eat, inviting him over with enthusiasm and listening to the sob story the trio created about their amnesia, enraptured. It made him feel guilty lying to them when the Khajiiti were so warm in their acceptance, but in comparison, the truth was too unbelievable and dangerous to tell them about it. Better safe than sorry, as the saying goes.

After eating an actually delicious horker soup, whatever horker is, they left the caravan and Hofgrir started instructing him on the proper way to take care of the horses. The beasts of Skyrim are damn big — or so Amy claimed during her explanation — and horses are no exception, the animal’s belly barely touched Dante's shoulder so he quite readily accepted her claim after seeing his first horse.

Firstly, he started by grooming the horses, following Hofgrir’s lead by observing how the man worked on the other animal. After that they walked down to the lake with buckets and carried water back to the stables, to pour it in the horse’s water trough. Then Hofgrir taught him how to check the grazing he kept at hand for the animals for any poisonous herbs that sometimes got mixed in, and which other food they can ingest without getting sick. At the end of the day, with the sun setting on the horizon, Hofgrir gave him two apples and a knife. One for him and the other for the horses he said, leaving him some free time to go and do kids’ stuff before nightfall when he was ordered to return and get some early sleep since he expected Dante awake at the crack of dawn the next day.

Exhausted, Dante could only smile his satisfaction as he walked into the city and the general direction of the inn, where he expected to find the others.

* * *

That night, Amy sat on the table Dante and Lyon were occupying with a big smile on her face, a good hour after Dante himself arrived.

“I think I know what I want to do with my time in this w-err, in Skyrim,” she laughed sheepishly for her almost mistake. “Magic. Is. Awesome. Guys!” She said with a lot of excitement, but finding barely a reaction from his boys, Amy pouted.

Raising a hand, she smiled with too many teeth and willed a flame to appear. The reactions were immediate.

“What the hell!”

“Fire! Amy!”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Amy giggled, “Aren’t I amazing?”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Dante said with dread.

“It’s incredible, darling!” Lyon said at the same time.

“Lyon!” Dante scowled at the Altmer.

“Dante,” Lyon stated dryly.

“Seriously,” Amy huffed.

Rolling his eyes, Lyon turned around and ignored Dante’s mood, “How was your day then, love?”

Smiling again, Amy replied with lots of energy. “I visited the court mage as I said I would, but she doesn’t have the time to take me in to teach me stuff, so she directed me instead to an alchemist who owns a shop down by the canal, Elgrim — but Wylandriah said she’s still going to give me some help if she has the time though! Anyway, Elgrim didn’t have a problem in taking me as an apprentice if I promised to take it seriously, and since I have amazing memory, I already know most things properties. Also, Hafjorg, Elgrim’s wife, is a really nice lady and her cooking is pretty good too. Then I also met Ingun Black-Briar — that girl has serious problems — and we’re going to be learning together. What about you guys?”

With a wide smile and open arms, Lyon posed dramatically, “You’re looking at Keerava’s new helper. I met Maramal on the way here and talked for a while with the guy, I suppose he liked me because they talked, and suddenly, boom! I had a job.”

“What about you, Dan?”

“Fine, I’m Hofgrir’s apprentice too. It’s damn exhausting though. I’m dead on my feet already.”

“I get you,” Amy sighed, “Elgrim took me near the Snow-Shod Farm to gather ingredients and we’ve been walking all day long. My feet are so done for.”

“Me too,” Lyon grumbled, “Patrons are so damn hard to please. And everyone wants something at the same time! I never thought a waiter had it so hard, I prefer bartender-ing any day.”

Amy laughed at him, “You’re lucky if someone asks something beyond mead or plain wine in here.”

“You don’t say,” Lyon said grumpily. “They have no taste whatsoever. _Les con 1_.”

“Language!” Dante scolded playfully.

“ _Le con_ ,” the French directed at Dante instead.

Keerava appeared then, taking Lyon away to attend the tables as the night crowd started to march in. Dante finished his apple a long time ago and was feeling drowsy, while Amy’s gut was growling. They left the inn and walked to the stairs in front of the bunkhouse, where they said their goodbyes and walked their separate ways.

After a tiresome first day in a new world, all three slept like the dead that night.

* * *

> Dante: Sorry, what?
> 
> Amaryllis: Really, it’s a book about poisons.
> 
> Lyon: Cool! Pass it around when you're finished...

* * *

“While Ingun takes care of that batch of healing potions, how about we start your instruction?” Elgrim said with a sigh, sitting in front of Amy at the table the next morning. “Where is your notebook?” He asked looking around.

Amy took it out of her pocket, along with a piece of charcoal, and opened the little book on the clean first page. “Aren’t we going to collect more things today?”

Elgrim shook his head no, “We are in the middle of autumn, child. Very few things survive the harsh cold of Skyrim and autumn may as well be called winter here. The lavender we collected yesterday is one of the few plants that survive such harsh weather and this season is turning out to be tamer than usual, so no wonder we could collect some yesterday. Still, since they have no flowers, no matter how much they are able to survive the cold, we can only brew little things with the stems.” He cleared his throat and turned to warm his hands on the roaring fire to his right. “Now, pay attention; Lavender has many different species and a plant variation that thrives in Valenwood will not survive the weather of the northerner provinces such as Skyrim or High Rock because of the cold, and Hammerfell or Morrowind because of the heat, while Elsweyr has two different kinds of weather between the tundra and rainforest, the last of which can grow the plant in a wild setting. And finally, Alinor and Black Marsh have them, but they’re not places you might ever find yourself traipsing around so it’s hardly important. Each place has a variation of the plant because of these differences in weather, and you shouldn’t try planting a sample brought from any other province except, maybe, High Rock, as it’ll die after its first taste of Skyrim’s colder seasons. If you collect and dry them for potions though, that’s another story. They all work just fine for that purpose. Now, remind me, which property you discovered from taking a bite of the stem we cut yesterday?”

“I could feel my magicka getting weird, like it was draining away and wouldn't stop until nothing remained,” Amy answered immediately.

Elgrim nodded, pleased. “While lavender’s strongest magical effect is ‘resist magic’, it’s also common for the effect to turn out to be the third one instead: ‘ravage magicka’. You will only be able to detect all four of the effects of an ingredient when you become more proficient at alchemy so, in the meanwhile, you will learn from me and take notes in your book about the effects of all the alchemical ingredients I’ll teach you. Lavender’s second strongest effect is ‘fortify stamina’; just like garlic, chaurus eggs, and large elk’s antlers. As there are only two ingredients that come from plants and help brewing stamina potions, they’re used a lot by us alchemist unless some hunter or adventurer brings the ingredients belonging to creatures and animals to us. You should always look after making friends with a reliable adventurer or hunter for this reason.”

“Elgrim?” The man hummed questioningly and turned around. “Isn’t there some ingredient that has fortify stamina as its strongest attribute?”

Elgrim smiled, pleased with her curiosity, “There is one, boar tusk, but they come from Bristleback boars and they’re native of the isle of Solstheim. It’s hard to find someone skilled or trustworthy enough to send there for that resource. If they don’t mind travelling all the way over to Solstheim, they certainly don’t look forward into fighting against rieklings — the little blighters are a menace around those lands and always train the Bristleback boars to be highly aggressive to people and use them as mounts.”

Right then, Ingun arrived from the backroom and sat at the table with a tray of tea for everyone.

“Have you finished preparing the potion, young Ingun?” Elgrim asked taking a peek around the arch, to observe the room with the bubbly cauldron.

“I did everything as you taught me,” Ingun said and sipped her tea while Hafjorg thanked her for the warm drink. Elgrim sniffed the air and walked further into the room, making Ingun sigh. “It’s not like brewing a simple healing potion that needs only monarch butterfly wings and blisterwort is that hard,” she whispered in secret and laughed with Amy.

“It sounds simple to _you_. I think I’d burn anything in just my second day learning about alchemy,” Amy added.

“True,” Ingun snickered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Les con: The idiots. French


	3. Holidays, debauchery and magic.

> Lyon: What is Saturalia?  
> Dante: What about Christmas?  
> Amaryllis: How exciting, new and interesting lore! I wonder if there are weird naked dances around bonfires and such…

* * *

Amy looked back at herself on the mirror with numbness. Her familiar pale skin was replaced by an exotic milky-chocolate colour now, common in a Bosmer, but entirely odd for her. Her green-hazel eyes turned entirely green, a bright and shiny green that reminded her of a fluorescent green beetle — the otherness of coloured sclerae from elves never freaked her out more than when she first saw her own eyes with brown instead of white. And finally, her hair was silver, straight, and short; she misses her wavy, long, honey-blond locks, but she’s growing it slowly again.

Those changes wouldn’t bother her so much if she at least looked her own age, but for some reason, she looks like a damn child. She was always short, but now she is barely above a metre tall. She looks like a ten or, with luck, a twelve years old little girl! Her thirty-one years old self felt utterly mortified of her reflection as she prepared in front of the mirror.

_Dinya Balu, Maramal’s wife, was kind enough to explain to her why she looked like that a few days ago, when Lyon took them to visit the Temple to introduce ‘his friends’ to Maramal. The woman was concerned in the beginning about her, since she has no parents and her closest friends are two males, besides that no other mer could possibly explain to her what to expect about being a mer herself. Dinya may be a Dunmer, but except for cultural differences, mer in general share the same biological aspects, she said._

_She explained the changes her body will go through as puberty hits, which depending on how old she is, it can take decades. Decades! Amy couldn’t believe it when she heard that but, apparently, elves start puberty — and looking a little more like adults — between the third and fifth decade. She dreaded going through puberty again, but she couldn’t wait to look as old as she feels. Because that is a thing too, elves don’t just look young, their minds mature as slowly as their bodies; a setback of living for centuries, but it was also a relief when she learned that puberty is shorter as a result, instead of several years, for elves, it’s just a question of two to three years of their bodies changing to a more mature form until puberty stops wreaking havoc in their bodies with the hormonal change, all thanks to the work of the higher levels of magicka they can handle._

_Sometimes, Amy wonders how crazy a scientist would get if they got lost in this world instead of someone as relaxed as her._

_Thankfully, as a mage herself, Dinya was able to explain the effects on the body caused by the constant use of magic. Humans have a lifespan of around one century, or it extends for a couple of decades more with the use of magic; beast races are longer lived, up to a couple of centuries sometimes, with magic extending their lifespan to double that if they are particularly gifted; and elves live commonly for one thousand years if they don't die in battle or encounters with the wildlife and the such, which extends to easily the double by the constant use of magic — although, the strongest mages recorded lived for far longer! She was amazed and a little scared by this._

_The woman then went into a long talk about sex and reproduction, trying to talk some caution into Amy’s head and letting her know she was there to listen to any problems or doubts she had. Turning the talk to potions and plants helpful during ‘that time of the month’ and how to prepare for her first period, which they had no idea when it could happen since Amy ‘lost her memory’ and wasn’t sure of her own age. With the mess of not knowing if her body was actually hers or if she was hitch-hiking on someone else’s, she could be her thirty-one years old self, or more, or even less; she wasn’t certain about anything in that regard and paid attention to Dinya’s explanation with diligence._

But, shaking her head, Amy forgot about that memory and focussed back on the present. Like the blue dress — of better quality than anything else she has — lying on top of the bed at the room she was given for the day.

She was understandably surprised by Ingun, when the girl invited her and the boys to the celebration taking place at Black-Briar Lodge, during the twenty-fifth. Apparently, until they appeared at Riften, Ingun and her brother Sibbi where the only children around the place, and so, Amy, Lyon and Dante are the only ‘interesting’ people for the Black-Briar siblings to spend any time with.

Sibbi was so happy about meeting someone ‘his age’ that he started visiting the tavern where Lyon works at, more often. Maven was disgruntled in the beginning, but after a few days, she stopped frowning so much every time they crossed paths, which Ingun explained as her mother becoming interested in Amy’s talent as an alchemist and the other two young elves by connection.

Anyway, Amy put on the dress after having the best bath so far since she arrived at Skyrim, and prepared to confront the entire Black-Briar family and their guests. Thankfully she wasn’t going to walk down to the dining room and spend ‘Saturalia’ with them without being able to give the family a present in return, and all thanks to Elgrim’s thoughtful wife who passed her a small box with an assortment of potions, to present during the gift exchange that evening. Being empty-handed would have been so mortifying.

Walking out of the room, Amy found Lon and Sibbi already walking away and joined them.

“That dress looks really nice on you, darling,” Lyon said with a smile.

Sibbi, on the other hand, looked more annoyed and her interruption than anything else.

Lyon was dressed just as good as she did. She didn’t know why Maven gave them the clothes or how she got their measurements, but she isn’t going to look this gifted horse in the mouth. She prefers to continue living in blinded bliss, at least for now. She is sure though, that Maven will ask for something in return for such a philanthropist move from her part at a later time. Ah well, the risks of becoming close with the family… it would have been a disaster if she threw Ingun’s invitation on her face after the girl suffered for days while trying to convince her mother to let them assist.

The big dining room that Amy saw only a few times when she got lost in the house during the mission about the horse from Sibbi, was full with people at that moment when they walked down the stairs.

Unlike in the game, here Hemming Black-Briar is a Nord/Breton descendant, Maven’s husband, and the sibling’s father. And since they have Breton ties, the Black-Briars celebrate the holiday of Saturalia, a common festivity from Wayrest, in High Rock. The rest of the people present couldn’t care less for the festivity — and in all honesty, Maven and Hemming don’t either — but it is a perfect occasion to show off for them, and to try and earn favour from the powerful family for the hand-picked guests.

Dante and Ingun were standing by the table with the pastries and the three of them walked in their direction after coming down to the party zone, where they spent the rest of the evening, enjoying themselves and avoiding those who tried to get too close to the siblings, who wanted to just be left alone. While Sibbi has more ambition than Ingun, none of them wanted to spend the holiday surrounded by bootlicking sycophants, unlike their parents, the main reason why they insisted so much on the three elves attending the party and keeping them company.

There was a short dinner when the sunset passed, followed by dancing and then the gifts exchange, after which the people simply mingled and formed contacts, at which time the siblings were free to leave and did so smoothly, taking Amy, Lyon and Dante along as they run off. It was a slightly boring thing all things considered, but at least the roast was delicious; besides, nobody cared enough to forbid them from drinking! Lyon certainly took this chance by the horns and enjoyed wine in bliss for the first time in a too-long week. Of course, Dante and Sibbi had to stop him from walking onto walls and stuff afterwards as his body was unaccustomed to indulging, but he enjoyed himself and it was amusing for Amy and Ingun to watch the show, so no one complained.

The next day, as Nords don’t practice such holiday, all five left back to Riften with Maul watching their backs. Sibbi had no reason to return, but he tagged along anyway, a bunch of books under his arm and ready to spend the morning sitting at The Bee and Barb studying for the test his tutor was preparing for him in a couple of days, before the man left for his two month’s holiday at the start of Morning Star. The teen was very grouchy about the injustices of having to study and whined all the way to the doors of the city, where Dante remained at the stables with a relieved sigh. The girls then walked down to the canal once they reached the bunkhouse, while Maul took a position against a pillar under the balcony of one of the houses by the entrance of Riften, and the boys continued by themselves.

Since Christmas wasn’t a proper holiday in Skyrim, except for Saturalia that is a bit alike, the three displaced partners decided to exchange gifts by themselves in the morning before leaving the lodge, where Dante added a potion Sibbi left with him the previous night to help Lyon with the hangover and the Altmer drank with relish, promising his eternal loyalty to Sibbi for being such a nice friend.

Amy received a pretty silver necklace with an emerald teardrop, while Dante got some new leather boots. Lyon left his brand-new sabre, that Amy and Dante somehow got from Balimund on credit until they could get the Septims for it, under the furs of his bed at the tavern where Keerava let him stay; it was coincidentally the room of the bard as there was none taking the post at the moment. He was thinking hard about taking on the mantle by himself as he was no stranger to string instruments, but his practice with the lute at the room so far was pitiful. He’ll give it a few months until he got better at it and proposed to Keerava to start playing at the tavern.

After changing out of his ostentatious clothes, Lyon grabbed the duster and started cleaning everything, the ground floor was still empty that early in the morning except for a couple of adventurers and the mage slash mercenary Marcurio, so he left their tables for the end and worked around them. He hated thinking that just in a few hours the rest of the patrons, sleeping on the second floor at the moment, will come down and ruin all his hard work, but so is the nature of his job; constantly moving from one place to another, cleaning after drunkards and sloppy eaters, keeping the tired sighs stuck inside… Yes, he’d prefer to be a bard a hundred times over, before continuing like this.

Why did he think that working at the inn was a good idea again?

Sibbi slumped against his chair in a corner of the room, letting his head fall to the table with a loud stump and earning Lyon’s attention.

“Alright there, kid?” Marcurio turned to look at Maven’s son.

“Fantastic,” Sibbi answered, the sound muffled as his hands surrounded his head, “I just don’t get why I need to know about stupid things like The Oblivion Crisis. That happened two centuries ago! Who cares?”

Marcurio snorted from his table, “You got me there. I never paid attention to professor Gestor when he talked about the crisis or the Daedra that invaded Tamriel. I prefer Dwemer history myself.”

“History sucks either way,” Sibbi whined.

Lyon wanted to help and recommend that he asked Amy about it, but they weren’t supposed to know anything, what with their ‘amnesia’ and everything. It was hard sometimes, acting like he knows nothing of the world and is just an ignorant teenager. Oh, and the yellow everywhere. Why did he have to become a damn Altmer? He hates yellow! He’d much prefer to be of Dunmer race, like Dan, dark skin and red eyes suit him much better than… ugh, yellow skin, golden eyes, and blond hair. Why does he have to suffer this misery?!

* * *

> Dante: Is that a zombie?  
> Amaryllis: Err, depending on how you look at it, I supose?  
> Lyon: I’m so disturbed… and here I thought that wasn’t possible anymore.

* * *

As the days continue to pass and the last day of the year grew closer, people from all over arrived in the city of Riften for many reasons.

Lyon wasn’t ready to face the oversized crowd visiting the tavern, while Dante was learning from Hofgrir about calming the steads arriving and unused to their handling and the noises from the city, as most of the visitors where hunters from all the surrounding lands around Riften, and Amy was as usual learning from Elgrim and practising his teaching on a cauldron by the fire; maybe there were more visitors at the front counter than usual, but Hafjorg was the one in charge of taking care of the customers and it didn’t affect Amy — or Ingun — in any way.

In the evening though, Amy and Dante walked around the city and were thoroughly surprised (and disgusted) by people moving around the bodies of recently dead relatives in the vicinity of the Temple of Mara. The priestess of Arkay, down in the Hall of the Dead, is sure with her hands full because of this and they pitied her a little after learning what was going on.

“What is all this about?” Dante asked, looking in bewilderment.

“No idea,” Amy shrugged, “There was nothing about holidays in TESV and I didn’t go looking around for information on them either.”

“Wow,” Dante exclaimed in surprise, “There is something you don’t know about TES after all.” He sniggered, avoiding Amy’s poking finger. “We should go help Lyon though,” he said, changing the subject and speeding off in the tavern’s direction and avoiding her angry poking. His ribs thanked him for it.

Still laughing, Dante walked into the room hastily, avoiding the multitude with ease and walking up to the counter where Keerava was taking orders of food from the many patrons. Alcohol is free during this kind of holidays, but that is the _**only**_ thing free of the day.

“Do you guys need help, Kee?” Dante asked to the exhausted-looking Argonian and earned a contented sigh from the female.

“You come just in time, little one. Your friend will thank you for the help, I’m sure. Lyon is upstairs settling the room for a few guests, but you can take over here and dispense the meals.”

“I can help in the kitchen if you want me to, Kee,” Amy appeared behind Dante, pinching one of his buttocks and making the Dunmer run off to hide his darkened face. She sniggered looking after him and expertly ignored Keerava’s slightly surprised expression.

“No, the help I contracted are taking care of it, thank you,” she said after a small pause. “If you still want to help though, you can work with Lyon and Dante here. Just be careful about what we talked about,” she said giving Amy a sideways glance.

The little Bosmer nodded, remembering the talk she and Keerava had after the first time one of the Nords tried to get handsy with Amy. Many of them may dislike mer, but they loss their compunctions once they chug down a few bottles of mead. Amy was quite disgusted with the man, not because she had anything against him in particular, but because she felt disturbed that he tried to molest someone that looks as young as she does at the moment.

Amy grabbed an apron and a cleaning rag and started helping Dan. Mead flowed freely and many patrons were already drunkenly swaying and singing along the rhythm of the recently arrived bard’s singing, many plates of food followed along and she was surprised by the amounts. It wasn’t long until Lon appeared and thanked them for the help. Today was one the few days at the year he’d had to work all day long, but the payment Keerava promised more than made up for all the extra work. Even Amy and Dante will get a few coins for their effort unlike the previous time they helped, not that they could complain about it since Kee gave them free meals many times when they visited before.

Amy was delivering a plate of seared slaughterfish an hour or so later, when she heard someone talking with a familiar tilt, “…friendly contest to win a staff?” The drunken drawl mas unmistakable, and as she turned, the Breton clad in a necromancer’s black robe made her gasp. A litany of **‘** Oh my god’s repeated in her head as she hurried to find her partners around the busy room. Without pause, she grabbed Dan’s and Lon’s hands, dragging them closer to the drinking twosome and letting Keerava know they were taking a short break as they walked by her counter.

“What is going on?”

“What is it?”

Amy shushed both and sat at the bench Marcurio was drinking at by himself; Nords may dislike magic, but they know better than to anger a mage and left him be… usually, anyway. The young mage liked her though, and gave her same space to sit next to him with only a curious raised eyebrow as a result.

“Shush, look at that Nord in a drinking contest with the Breton,” she said, witnessing the events with a wide smile. “Do you remember who my favourite Prince is?” She simply said after the two elves and Imperial surrounding her kept distracting her with questions.

“Not Prince Charming, if I remember correctly,” Lyon said with amusement.

Meanwhile, Dante turned eyes full of dread to the drinking duo. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” the Dunmer cussed, standing stiff now.

“A… Prince?” Marcurio said instead, as excited as Lyon and as fearful as Dante. “Surely not a-... one of _them_?” And turning to the same people the kids were observing, he paled, still smiling a little. “Are-are you sure, Amy?”

“I’ll bet you anything, that the Breton there is actually Sanguine in disguise!” Amy whispered back at the mage, but kept her sight on the amusing show. The man was eyeing the second tankard offered by the Breton warily, and she almost missed the sideways glance said Prince threw in their direction, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Amy gulped down with sudden nervousness.

“No bet!” Marcurio immediately said. “If they’re in a drinking contest then it’s no brainer to assume that’s Lord Sanguine.”

Amy pouted, “I’ll bet you five Septims instead, that the guy can’t finish the second tankard then.”

“He’s a Nord,” Marcurio replied full of certainty. “I’ll take you on that bet. He’ll drink all of it easily.”

Lyon snorted next to them. Dante remained silent and wary. On the table in front of them, the Nord started drinking after a long stare at the beverage… but paused midway, releasing a loud belch.

“Gross,” Lyon and Amy whispered as one.

The man tried to finish his drink after breathing heavily for three seconds, clearly forcing himself to even aim straight at his mouth, and started swallowing. Once, twice… and chocked at the third gulp; his eyes rolled to the back of his head, mead spilling on the table, the floor, and the drunk guy’s armour as he fell to the floor, out for the night. Lyon cursed and grabbed a rag, walking to the table and starting to clean.

Amy laughed, extending her hand in Marcurio’s face and making a grabbing motion. “Pay up, looooser!” She joked, giggling madly.

Despondently, Marcurio grabbed his money pouch and brought out five golden coins, letting them rest on her tiny hand with a sorrowful look. “You lucky little minx.”

She just continued laughing, enjoying the moment, until Dante’s hold on her shoulder turned painful and she turned to see what the problem was. Her mouth clicked shut as she caught the Breton now standing in front of them. She looked up, up, up to the man’s (Daedra’s) face and gulped nervously. Marcurio, at her right, did so too.

“So…” the Breton drawled, “Care telling me, what gave me away, little one?”

Amy laughed with nerves, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly and avoiding his suddenly penetrating gaze, “I-I… Are you angry? I won't tell anyone if that's y-”

A belly laugh startled them, and Dante wasn’t able to hold it anymore, “Are you going to hurt us?” His back straightened, ready for anything. He didn’t understand how Lyon could only laugh behind the dangerous being standing amongst them. Was he born without a sense of self-preservation or what?

The Breton stopped laughing and snorted and Dante, “Why would I ever do such a thing?” He cocked his head confused. “I’m just curious how you discovered my real identity so fast,” he said softly, to avoid getting unwanted attention from the many customers around the inn.

“Nous sommes originaires d'un univers où cette réalité n'est qu'une série de jeux1,” Lyon was the one to answer, walking around the God and grabbing Dante’s hand from Amy’s shoulder. “You’re going to leave bruises on her,” he said to the Dunmer, who flinched and whispered an apology to Amy, but she simply smiled showing she didn’t mind.

While Marcurio looked at Lyon in curiosity after he talked in a weird language which wasn’t Cyrodilic, Dunmeris, Bosmeri, or Altmer — he’s a scholar and studied many cultures and spend long times surrounded by speakers of said tongues, he knows what those languages sound like — and had no idea what the kid said, but he planned on asking questions later.

Sanguine, for his part, was beaming at the group with a toothy smile. “Really now?” He drawled, drinking some more from his never emptying flask. “What an interesting novelty! I may have fun tonight after all. Care for sharing a few stories about this-” he glanced at Marcurio for a second before changing language mid-sentence and speaking french all of a sudden, “-d'un autre monde, tu viens de2?”

“Sure,” Lyon shrugged completely nonplussed.

Dante threw his arms to the air and scoffed, “Am I the only one worried for our safety, here? He’s a _God!_ ” He turned to hiss at the other elves, completely missing Sanguine’s preening behind him.

“Don’t be such a killjoy, Dan. His sphere is debauchery and fun stuff, not murder,” Amy rolled her eyes.

“I have to return to work though,” Lyon continued over the discussion of his partners, that Sanguine looked at amused. “Keerava will skin me if I leave her alone for the rest of the night.”

“We can talk when Lyon has his break for the night,” Amy said perching on the back of her blond boyfriend. Lyon nodded next to her and waved at the Daedric Prince, leaving back to his job before Keerava decided to come to fetch him by the ear.

“You’re absolutely nuts,” Dante shook his head and walked away hurriedly.

“Well,” Sanguine smirked at Marcurio, making the young man shiver, “It’s just you and me now, buddy. So, how about a friendly bet to win a staff?”

“It’s a really good one too, Marc, you shouldn’t miss on the chance,” Amy whispered at the mage before leaving, earning a wink from Sanguine for her troubles and she giggled as she returned to work.

That was more fun than she expected, she thought later as she walked from table to table, bringing food and drinks to the people.

* * *

> Sanguine: Debauchery!  
> Amaryllis and Lyon: Yeah!  
> Dante: * _facepalms_ *

* * *

That night, Marcurio disappeared alongside Sanguine, and even though they waited, said Prince didn’t show up for their talk. Dante was surely relieved by this turn of events.

Lyon didn’t have much time to think anything about it, since he had to wake up early the next day. Morning Star took where Evening Star left it and the drinks flowed freely one last day. Many left during that same day, while others preferred to remain at the city until their hangovers run their course. Fortunately, the second of Morning Star was a free day for all three of them, as is the custom all over Tamriel. They enjoyed the sunny day by taking a walk along the lake and had a picnic, a novelty for the Khajiit that found them as they arrived at the gates of Riften and saw them; of course, the rest of the afternoon they sat with them and heard the many funny stories the members of the caravan regaled them with.

It wasn’t until the twelfth than Sanguine showed up again, with a dishevelled Marcurio in tow.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” Keerava said with a laugh as she pocked the slumped mage on her countertop.

Lyon raised his head from the table he was cleaning and smiled. The young mage looked a mess of rumpled robes, stains and _reeked._ He wrinkled his nose walking closer to him.

“You’re going to scare the few clients I was expecting to have tonight!” Keerava complained, and turning to Lyon she said, “Take him to take a bath and make sure the drunken fool doesn’t drown, little one.”

“Sure thing, Kee,” Lyon proceeded to ignore the gagging and dragged the bumbling mess that was Marcurio to the bathroom down in the basement. He didn’t know how he was going to take them down the stairs without breaking their necks trying, when the weight of the mage suddenly left him. He turned with a start and to his relief, he found the smirking face of a familiar Breton hauling up the mage without much effort. “Hey Sam, thanks for the help,” he said airily and guided the Daedra into the bathroom.

“No reaction at all,” Sanguine sighed behind him. “Your Dunmer friend was more fun than this,” he complained, and as Lyon turned slightly, he caught the Daedric Prince pouting.

Lyon’s giggles only made Sanguine pout some more.

“I’d apologise, but-” he shrugged and opened the door, turning to the smelly duo, “Good God’s you two reek like a brewery!” He clapped a hand over his nose.

Sniffing in offence, ‘Sam’ let the mage fall gracelessly into the tub of cold water, successfully waking the man up without any effort. At the same time, magic swirled around the Breton and the smell vanished from him, just like the human form.

“I should feel offended,” Sanguine said with a fearsome expression that crumpled quite quickly, “But I’m too lazy for that.”

“If you want someone to fawn all over you, pay a visit to Amy. I’m an agnostic atheist… or was anyway.”

“Oh? Did something happen to make you change your beliefs?” Sanguine smirked and turned to shove Marcurio with a playful finger, who was trying — and failing miserably — to get his clothes off without falling on his face in the intent. The mage slipped inside the tub, falling headfirst in the water and flailing uselessly for a few seconds with his ass in the air. “Maybe I’ll visit her later…” Sanguine hummed as he watched Marcurio’s ass peeking out of the tub, until finally he couldn’t help himself and he slapped the pale cheeks making the sound echo loudly in the room. Marcurio’s head came out of the water then, cheekbones burning red and head turning around.

“I met a God,” Lyon deadpanned in answer to Sam’s earlier question after he stopped laughing. Without much finesse, he shoved soap in Marcurio’s hand and threw the mage’s clothes in a basket to be washed. “So, I went from not believing shit, to accepting it but not caring either way. I supposed I’m simply agnostic now.” He shrugged and put a pensive finger under his chin, “I should have known better with all the shit that happened between Loki and Thor a while ago back at home, no matter what Amy said about aliens.”

“Who?” Sanguine startled. Eyes suddenly focussing unwaveringly on the young elf.

“Loki and Thor, from the Nordic pantheon?” Lyon raised an eyebrow in the Daedra’s direction, “Gods of Mischief and Thunder respectively?” After getting no sign of recognition, he blinked a few times to show his surprise, “Wow, okay, maybe there isn’t a God’s convention. That’s a little disappointing.”

“God’s convention?” Sanguine snorted. “We’d end up causing massive destruction if that were to happen.”

“Damn,” Lyon punched the air in disappointment, “I own Dante a hundred bu-err septims, I guess.”

“So,” Sanguine relaxed back into his don’t-give-a-shit posture on a chair, pocking at bubbles that came out from the bath tube and raising a tankard that literally appeared out of nowhere, “You promised to tell me about this different universe of yours.” Lyon turned startled in Marcurio’s direction, but the man was simply relaxing against the rim of the tub with misty eyes and a silly smile. Sanguine smiled mischievously and waved a hand in front of the mage, “I may have given him something to keep him from remembering anything of this, you don’t have to worry.”

“No wonder he’s so silent,” Lyon snorted, “I was wondering.”

“So, different universe?” Sanguine insisted once more.

“Right,” Lyon nodded, taking a small stool and sitting against a wall, watching how Sanguine molested the mage with small pockings here and there while he told the God what Earth was like.

The idea that they ended in this world by mere chance made Sanguine snort, saying that if that were to happen, they would’ve died already since their souls would have shrivelled and faint into nothingness out of the fertile soil of their home universe’s magic. Lyon didn’t believe in magic until he arrived in the new world and doubted that his previous one had any, which Sanguine promptly explained that if there wasn’t magic, there wasn’t life, so Lyon’s old world had to have at least a little for him to exist at all.

Like this, they talked for the rest of the night, which wasn’t as concurred as Keerava expected and left him with lots of free time. In the end, Lyon got out of Sanguine why he was expending so long in a single place, without starting a massive party or something. Apparently, since the thirteen is Meridia’s day, he can’t fuck around people and influence them, is a _thing_ the Princes have going amongst them. Marcurio is up for grabs since Sanguine already claimed the man as one of his, but the rest of the people in the city are safe from him for the day.

Dante and Amy appeared after dinner and sat waiting until Lyon finished working, when they trotted upstairs and got comfortable in his room. Dante, as the only sane person in their relationship, was obviously ticked off at the Deadroth’s presence and made his displeasure known by sitting in a corner, sulking for the entirety of Sanguine’s visit.

Marcurio was still present too, but since Sanguine keep making him drink his ‘special brew’, the mage was barely conscious and acted more like a content pet sitting in Sanguine’s lap and almost even purred like one.

“Is Marc going to be fine?” Amy asked a little concerned for the mage.

Sanguine merely shrugged, “Hangover-ed as all Oblivion, but beyond that, sure.”

While Dante sulked in the corner with a book, trying to ignore the rest of the room, he still ate along with the rest the pie Amy brought after baking it that evening under the guidance of Hafjorg. Because of this, he wasn’t ready when Sanguine made a question he wasn’t expecting and almost chocked to dead.

“So, have you tried doing anything fun with your new bodies yet?” Sanguine asked and all the heads turned in his direction, “Not everybody has the chance to experience their virginity twice,” he commented amusedly, and just then Dante started chocking. “If you want any help getting reacquainted, remember that Uncle Sanguine is here for you, my little universe hoppers.”

Laughing, Lyon stood to pat Dante on the back and help his chocking partner. Amy though, with slightly darkened cheeks, cleared her throat and looked to the side sheepishly. They haven’t talked about it, but there was an unspoken understanding amongst them that that was an untouchable subject for the moment. Sanguine bringing it up was just kicking the hornets’ nest. He has such a horrible timing…

* * *

> Amaryllis: I’m calling it Po.  
> Dante: Amy, no.  
> Amaryllis: Amy, yes!

* * *

“I had a small lesson with Wylandriah today again,” Amy said sitting in front of her exhausted-looking partners, twitching in place with all the bottled up energy along the day.

Head falling on the Altmer’s shoulder, Dante seemed out of it already, at barely eight in the evening. That left only Lyon to comment in any way to her words. “Did you learn how to turn undead or something?”

“I-…What? No!” Amy frowned at the blond, “I learned to summon a familiar, to protect me if I ever get in trouble. Are you still traumatized about the priests calling the souls of the dead during the Old Life Festival, _three months ago_?”

The wooden spoon clattered on the bowl of stew with a ringing noise. “I’ll never recover from that!” Lyon said over-dramatically.

Amy rolled her eyes, “Do you want to see my familiar or not,” she waited until he straightened back on the chair and huffed a sigh, mumbling “Drama queen.”

“Ugh,” Dante growled, waking up and looking around. “Did I fall asleep again?”

“I’m not a drama queen,” Lyon hissed at Amy, turning a warmer look at Dante, “Yes, a little while. You should go to bed.”

The violet light-show from a summoning portal startled them into attention. A light-blue creature appeared in the middle of the room and stretched lazily, pawing in the direction of Amy with stumbling legs and proceeded to wrap around her leg in a weird but cute hug. Putting its head on Amy’s lap, the Bosmer patted her familiar that made cute yapping noises contentedly and rubbed his head on her stomach like a cat on catnip.

“A panda?” Dante said with amusement, “That’s oddly cute coming from you, Amy.”

Lyon looked at it with undisguised dread though, “They are still a type of bear, Dan. Don’t let its cute appearance fool you.”

“Awe, a bear!” Marcurio exclaimed then, bringing a chair to their table after he just walked into the room to find the summon all over Amy. “Mine is some lame fish, I’m so envious,” he pouted and looked at the bear with no little wistfulness.

Amy snickered, “A fish, really?”

Raising a hand, Marcurio summoned his own familiar out of a portal and the little thing started to ‘swim’ around the mage’s head in a lazy pattern. The lightly spotted and elongated body, with a big belly and small hair-like protuberances along its body, was actually pretty underwhelming at first sight, but after looking at it for a moment, Amy recognised what she was actually seeing.

“Marc?” She asked, turning around to look at the grimacing mage and her smile slipping away. “That’s not some ‘lame fish’,” she said pointing at the summon and earning her friend’s curiosity.

“Do you recognise it from somewhere?”

“Isn’t it a pufferfish?” Lyon cocked his head, also studying the summon, and Amy nodded. “Has it never turned big and spiky?”

“Big? Spiky?” Marcurio asked with scepticism. “It’s a damn fish! Why would it do that?”

“Because pufferfishes do that,” Dante added, now looking at the small thing with curiosity while yawning widely.

“But that happens only when they feel threatened,” Amy told Marcurio with a smirk. “I suppose you never summoned it when in danger?”

“Never saw the use. I mean, what can a fish possible help with in the middle of a fight?” Marcurio scratched his head.

“The tetrodotoxin is a strong poison, something pufferfishes secret. For what I understand, frostbite spiders spit something similar, a poison that paralyses you, right?”

Marcurio startled, “Are you kidding me? I had an awesome paralyzing fish as my familiar all this time and didn’t know?!”

“It isn’t surprising that you didn’t recognise it, really.” Lyon shrugged, “Those things are common only in warm waters, so Nords shouldn’t know crap about them.”

“You should try summoning it during a fight, see if he can poison whatever you’re fighting against.”

“How do you know about them?” Marcurio asked suddenly, slanted eyes fixed in their wide-eyed faces.

“G’night,” Dante rushed away, avoiding whatever was going to happen. He was tired and falling asleep on his chair anyway, better to get to his bed and rest.

Lyon rolled his eyes at the Dunmer, while Amy stared the mage down. “Even Sanguine agrees that there are things better not known, let it be, Marc.”

After a long minute, Marcurio sighed and stomped away moodily, leaving the two elves to themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Nous sommes originaires d'un univers où cette réalité n'est qu'une série de jeux: we are originally from a universe where this reality is just a series of games.
> 
> 2 d'un autre monde, tu viens de: other world, you come from.


End file.
